Monday, November 29, 2010

Live in the moment.
Wise words.
I think about why that has been hard for me, and I think that perhaps, growing up as I did, for a long time the future was all I had to hold on to. I didn’t want to be "present." I was pretty good at disassociating from what was happening to me and in front of me, and comforted myself with dreams of something else, something better.
Being present seemed artificial. It was what people who lived in a different world talked about.

I recently found a letter my (now deceased) therapist wrote to me many years ago. I was at a crossroads, and was reaching out for guidance. She succinctly summarized for me what I had left to do, in order to find the peace and happiness I so earnestly sought. She told me that I needed to get my financial house in order, and find a better job. She understood how misplaced I had been for so long. She knew better than I how powerful it is for a woman to have control of her money. She was trying to help me comprehend the importance of stability and continuity. She was right.

She also talked about my bond with my nephew, and told me that I needed to sort that out. It was always in my heart that I wanted a child of my own. I am so deeply moved and fulfilled that my fondest wish came true. It still seems so unbelievable.

Because I was not used to the pleasure of making a plan, setting a goal, and having things fall into place. I didn’t grasp how much of an effect I could really have on my reality. I was just learning to leap onto the seat of the racing wagon, grab the reins of the runaway horses, and steer it to safety. I barely believed it was possible.

But despite my bumbling and stumbling, I followed her advice. It worked out amazingly well. I am no longer paralyzed with the anxiety that living beyond my means created. I don’t worry about catastrophes falling on me like hail. I am no longer merely a pawn, eking out my existence at the mercy of some irrational Assistant Manager, afraid to speak my mind, and denied simple human dignity. The walls I have built are no longer to keep people away; they now form a strong foundation that shelters me. I can now choose to trust some people, because fundamentally, I trust myself.

The future is no longer the Promised Land. Right now seems tolerable, even enjoyable, most of the time. I have earned the luxury of contemplating the wisdom of living in the moment.